Ambiguous Rubbish: Smut and Fluff
by Chasind Desire
Summary: A collection of Jowan smut and fluff drabbles. Some tie in loosely with my Desire's Due series, but not all.  Have you hugged a maleficar today? UPDATE: Chapter 4 - Absolved - Jowan/Alistair.
1. Good Sandwich Fluff JowanVhaaja

**Ambiguous Rubbish: the Smut Files  
><strong>_A series of Jowan/Vhaaja Drabbles_

**a/n: **I started writing about a couple nice little drabbles. They take place in my 'Giving Desire her Due' universe, but aren't exactly canon to the story, if you catch my meaning. They are just for fun. I don't think they are too spoiler-ish. If I get a assertion to the contrary I'll remove them.

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><p><strong>Good Sandwich<strong>

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><p>"It's really coming down out there," Jowan said peering out the glass window. It'd been snowing all day, covering the world in pristine white. Night had fallen and there was still no sign it was lightening up.<p>

"Which is why you should close the shutters and come sit with me by the fire." Vhaaja answered, swirling the goblet of wine in one hand, a book cradled in the other. The way her brows knitted together, he could tell she was trying to picture something in her mind's eye. She was nestled on what Jowan considered the most flamboyant and ugly piece of furniture he'd ever laid eyes upon. It wasn't just purple, it was bright magenta with a floral pattern to the fabric in a darker purple. But she loved it, and thus he found himself tolerating the monstrosity.

"It may still be a novelty to you, my dove, but I've had enough of snow to last me a lifetime. If I could hibernate like a bear, you'd not find me until spring. We should send the darkspawn a note purposing a truce until the snow melts." As she rambled, telling him every thought as it occurred to her. She was finally comfortable within these stone walls, a small miracle to be sure. His bobcat had been jumpy and tense the first few weeks. He moved away from the window and behind her. After a quick glance at the pages, Jowan leaned forward and plucked the book from her hand. She almost made a jump for the book, but at the last moment remembered her wine. She settled for a heavy sigh and a petulant glare.

"What is an 'Antivan Milk Sandwich…'" His own brow knitted. Jowan's eyes glided quickly down the page. An 'oh' escaped him as he tilted his head slightly, his nose wrinkling at the mental image.

"Its not as fun as it sounds," Vhaaja quipped without thinking, the next instant clasping a hand over her mouth. It only muffled her laughter, her amusement showing clearly as her eyes danced. Which only served to pique his interest further. She saw the unasked question in his suspicious expression. "Its been years, and I haven't done it with anyone here."

"Funny how Anders is snowed in at the Crown and Lion as you say that," he sighed. He gently pushed her legs away to sit beside her, returning the book to her with an outstretched hand. She tossed the thing over her shoulder. It landed with a bounce on the bed they shared. Apparently he was more interesting, not that he was surprised. Vhaaja was highly susceptible to distraction. Either that or he was good at being distracting. A win was a win.

"What can I say? It was a crazy two weeks. Which let me remind you, ended with me in the custody of the Chantry, via my absolute favorite order of knights. Which lead to me traipsing across Ferelden after a Grey Warden, which lead me on the scenic tour of Highever's dungeons during that that whole dreadful affair and then…" her gaze turned wicked, leveling on him with _that_ grin. He hated _that_ grin. "I met you. Should be thanking the knicker-weasel."

"I'll make sure to put him on my Satinalia list," sarcasm bled from his tone. Vhaaja finished her wine, and set the goblet by the couch's leg. She then closed the distance remaining between them, unabashed in her affections.

"Should make it something special," she teased at length, placing her head on his shoulder. She looked up at him through half-lidded lashes. He recognized the want there, behind her bistre gaze. "It was a good sandwich."

Jowan awarded this with his best imitation _angry _face, taking the teasing in stride. It was how his bobcat said she loved him. As he feigned hurt and made to push her away she leaned in, her warm breath tickling his ear. "But we could make a better one. I'm sure Sigrun would be up for it, and Nathaniel does own me that _big_ favor."

He caught her lips with his, she murmured softly in response before she started to fumbled with the ties of his robe. When he'd pulled himself away from her for a moment, he managed a reply. "It can wait, I'm still savoring what I have"


	2. Late One Night Smut JowanVhaaja

**a/n: **_This one is pure smut. Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Late Night<strong>

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><p>Vhaaja wrapped her arms around his waist as he stood at the fireplace. The lingering flame bathed his body in soft light. One hand at the stone beside it, eyes focused on the sluggishly dancing tendrils. Her fingers caressed the large scar along his thigh, the tissue different then that around the branded flesh. Despite the area being less sensitive then the rest of his body; his breath caught for an instant before he leaned back into her. The sight of him still tugged upon her heart as stark reminder of his time at Redcliffe.<p>

The Orlesian bitch would pay if Vhaaja ever laid eyes upon her, it was at her order his skin had been flayed from his body among other agonizing ministrations. The same knife had then been heated to near molten to cauterize the wound, lest he expire before they were done with him. All the while demons whispered promises as he slipped in and out of consciousness; in and out of the Fade. An attempt to get answers for an atrocity Jowan had not committed. They'd been caused by Isolde's boy instead. The mage would say he'd earned such treatment and worse for what he'd done, but it didn't mean it pained her less.

Vhaaja knew she wouldn't have been so strong in his place. He was made of quiet strength, a trait she admired. Her mage had decided long ago, when the time came, he would die a man and not a twisted shadow of himself. Inviting a demon in only validated the Chantry's claims, proved that he was an abomination-in-waiting like his mother had feared. Like he now feared himself.

One hand moved up his torso, the lines of his body making her sex clench. There too were marks, brands from the hot poker they'd used before resorting to removing skin. Her right hand traveled lower to grasp his engorged shaft. She stroked the length of him slowly, tightening her hold against his hardness. A murmur of pleasure left him as he thrust gently against her hand. A droplet of moisture sluiced from the tip. He turned then, gracing Vhaaja with the view of him.

Mother most high, did she love to look at him. His lanky body was still soft from his years casting spells. There was no mistaking him for a warrior, but that was what held allure for Vhaaja. She placed her palm flat against his chest, still a shade or two darker then he. But he was no longer pale as a dove's wing, the sun had done him justice. Dark hair trailed down his form from a faint triangle in the middle of his chest, ringing his rosy pink nipples in a heavier fashion. As the line continued past his naval, the path widened to encompass his nethers in a dark cloud. Vhaaja enjoyed his hair, and delighted that he was not so heavily furred as some men.

Then, well, there was his cock. In that area he was well blessed by his Maker. Long enough that the tip bumped pleasantly against her cervix if he plunged in to his hilt, and wide enough to stretch her deliciously as he entered. It was a shapely affair as well, straight as an arrow with skin that only slightly differed from that of his body. The velvety head a light shade of pink. Her body shuddered with anticipation, to which Jowan responded with a moan.

She slipped down to her knees, ever looking up at him. She pulled her hands down him, her touch hovering above his body a hair's breadth from contact. She felt his stomach tighten as her fingers passed, at last making contact at the very base of his manhood before retracting it. The view was spectacular, his contours displayed acutely from this angle. She could perceive the curve of forming muscle under his skin in slight peaks and valleys. The sight of him looking down at her, eyes half-lidded and smoldering, made something inside her tighten for a heart beat. The electric sensation saw her breathing hitch.

Vhaaja pressed her face against his thigh, kissing the tender skin there tantalizingly. Her tongue flicked out, and she slowly pulled towards the mushroomed tip in one unbroken line. His hands appeared at the back of her head, fingers tangling in her mousy brown hair. His cock twitched before she took him into her mouth. The salty taste of him sending a shiver of delight; which in turn brought a moan from her lover. His hands in her hair tightened, coaxing her on. As she slid her lips down his shaft, she brought a hand up his inner thigh and gently caressing his balls.

She loved the feel of the skin there, so unlike anything on her own body. She took simple pleasure at the feel of it between her fingers and the murmurs that coursed from him. She turned her full attention back to his pleasure, wrapping her wandering fingers about his manhood and stroking him in time with her mouth. His grip tightened gradually as she quickened her pace, until his knees near buckled underneath him. She then removed her mouth, to peer up at him with a satisfied grin. She rose, playing kisses up his torso as she did.

She had just pulled herself up to her full height when she was suddenly cradled against him. Arm around her shoulder and another under the bend of her knees, she was deposited with care upon the mattress. He stood at the end of the bed and drank in the sight of her washed in the gentle hues of firelight, hand at his chin as if deciding what to do with her. She could tell by the half grin on his face that he was pleased with what he saw. His candid desire made her need throb, she longed for him to sink into her.


	3. Many Roads Slash Smut JowanAnders

**a/n:** _Alright. This is my first attempt at slash. Its Jowan/Anders, and I liked doing it way too much. Any ideas for another prompt? Freel free to leave it in a review. Or feel free to PM me. Let me know how I did too, like I said, first time._

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><p><strong>Prompt: Many Roads<strong>

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><p>Many roads had extended out before him, but Jowan still wondered at the choices that had brought him here.<p>

The man at the foot of the bed had the coloring of honey, his blond hair loose to frame his angular face. Golden eyes roved Jowan's naked frame, his skin creamy milk to Anders' sun-kissed radiance. The other man pulled a square fingered hand up Jowan's slender side, sending a jolt of excitement through him brought a wicked twist to the other mage's lips. He descended then, Jowan reclined on the coverlet so he could watch, and lavished a kiss below his navel. He flicked his tongue along the skin there, the muscles in Jowan's abdomen tightened and he closed her eyes against the sensuous prickle of the other man's stubble as he followed the dark trail of hair downwards.

Jowan's eloquent fingers went to Anders hair, finding purchase along his scalp. A low moan escaped him and he arched back as Anders' mouth played at the base of his engorged shaft. The blond mage's mischievous eyes peered up at Jowan, drinking in the sight of his pleasure.

"See, just relax and let it happen. All that worrying for nothing," Anders murmured, pressing his lips to the inside of Jowan's thigh. He climbed up his body in a graceful crawl, placing one well formed thigh on either side of Jowan's abdomen. Anders' cock jutted out before him, the slight twitch of it a sign his eager anticipation matched Jowan's own. He wasn't extraordinarily long, but he made up for it in girth. Jowan gave him a lopsided grin as he traced the back of a finger up the line of golden hair from his pulsing erection. He had a well defined musculature and was broader then Jowan, but not bulky. Jowan often felt weedy in comparison.

Jowan cupped the underside of Anders' heavy arousal, the skin smooth velvet and molten hot beneath his touch. Anders arched down, pressing a string of kisses along Jowan's narrow shoulder. He continued the trail along the protrusion of his collarbone, up the cords of his neck and then to the scruff of his jawline. Anders grabbed Jowan's hand, closing his long fingers around the thickness of his throbbing cock. Jowan squeezed. A low moan rumbled at the back of Anders' throat. Jowan hungrily drank in his ecstasy. His head fell back as Ander's tantalizingly rolled his hips against Jowan's palm. A drop of sticky moisture sluiced for the silken tip.

"Turn over," came Anders' husky tone, his hot breath teasing and tickling his ear. He placed a soft kiss beneath Jowan's lobe, in area where it met the line of his jaw. The scrape of teeth against skin sent a frisson of energy through Jowan, his shaft jerked with need.

"I want to see you," Jowan murmured back, lulling his head against that of the other man. Seeing Anders fuck him had become the most important act on Thedas, Anders bathed in the amber glow of lamplight was the most enthralling creature Jowan had yet to lay eyes upon. That moment, when Anders allowed himself to lose control and wrapped himself in rapture was like nothing else. It was enough to turn his insides with anticipation, his heart already racing at the prospect. Jowan ran his hands up the other mage's body, caressing him as he went.

Anders leaned over, and reached outside the sanctuary of their bed to the nightstand. He returned with a bottle of oil. Anders moved down until he was straddling the slighter mage's pelvis. He lathered his cock with the oil before testing Jowan's readiness with a finger, earning Anders another moan. Anders continued slowly with another finger. Then finally a third. Satisfied, Anders signaled Jowan with a pat and he drew up his legs. Anders pushed into Jowan excruciatingly slow. He didn't stop until he was sheathed to the hilt. Jowan could feel his body tight around Anders' hardness before gradually relaxing. After assuring himself of Jowan's comfort, Anders withdrew. Then thrust back in finding a steady rhythm.

Picking up the tempo bit by bit, Anders couldn't hold the other mage's gaze. He threw his head back and Jowan's name left his lips in a ragged chant of gasps and groans. Jowan bowed luridly off the bed as Anders shifted his hips, finding just the right angle. As Jowan's body contracted around his cock, Anders abandoned the last shreds of his control; pounding into him with hard, deep thrusts.

In a white hot burst, Jowan came. His sticky seed spilling out in a warm puddle over his taunt belly. After a few more thrusts, Anders joined him in climax. Anders kissed Jowan tenderly as he withdrew and settled himself at the darker mage's side. Anders pulled Jowan to him, holding him in a firm embrace. Jowan molded against Anders. An easy silence passed between them as Jowan caught his breath and listened as Anders' heart rate returned to normal.

How many roads could have lead him here, because this was the only place that mattered.


	4. Absolved  Fluff JowanAlistair

**Absolved**

_to free from guilt or blame or their consequences_

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><p>Jowan woke with a start, the terror of what lay behind sleep worse than any trip into the Fade. He'd heard the song, that melody a dirge to life. A requiem for the fallen. He'd seen it, felt it, was part of it himself; the horror that was the archdemon. Every twisted breath for the creature was agony, and it was determined to spread its misery to everything in its path. Whether or not what the Chantry taught was true, and mages had in fact corrupted the Golden City, the Uthemiel's contempt for all life was not a question. And now, he was part of the darkspawn as much as the darkspawn were a part of him. He could almost feel the tug of it now, as he sat awake. The taint coursing through him, longing to return to the side of the Archdemon. There would be peace at its side. Maker's breath, there was a reason there was the word demon in the abysmal creature's name. But this was the price he'd agreed to pay, when he'd accepted the Warden's Right of Conscription. He didn't feel better, he felt darker. More contorted on the inside, not less.<p>

Suddenly a hand covers his. Its a large hand. Patterned with rough callouses and scars. They are so very different from his own soft, eloquently fingered hands. Jowan rubs his thumb along the side of the warm hand, attention catching on the jagged nails. They'd been chewed. His eyes should already be adjusted to the dim light, but they take a moment to focus. The flesh of the hand had a slight golden hue to it, there was no question who it belonged to. He traced the line up the blunted fingers and well muscled arm, there looking genuinely elated to lay eyes on him was the wayward Templar recruit who had quickly become the object of Jowan's affection, quite to the contrary to every drop of sense the Maker saw fit to give him. Which wasn't anything to brag about in the first place.

"Duncan said that sometimes the Joining is harder physically on mages," he said. The lightness in his tone sounding strained. There was worry in those blue eyes of his, they tugged at Jowan. He shouldn't have worried, the mage did enough worrying for three people, "But you've always been stronger than you looked."

And Alistair had always been more sensitive than he looked. They were quite a pair, they looked like complete opposites. Anyone simply looking at them couldn't understand their attraction to one another. What could a mage and Templar have in common except maybe a naughty sex game or two Zevran had pointed out several, they'd yet to complete the list. The whole concept of loving another man was still new and confusing for Alistair, loving anyone again had been a concept just as strange to Jowan. But deep down, they were both children sent away because of what they were, a thing they couldn't change no matter how they tried. At the same time Alistair had been sent to live at the Chantry, Jowan had been left on the Chantry's step. There were too many parallels in each other, its what had initially interested the both of them.

And now...

The bed jostled underneath him as Alistair clambered for a place. In plain dark trousers and a long sleeved light colored tunic, the man made himself comfortable before pulling Jowan down to him. Hesitantly he started to pull his fingers through the mage's hair. It wasn't something they talked about. Sometimes Alistair just needed someone to hold. Much more than Jowan ever needed to be held, but it was a fault the mage could live with. It was only awkward for the first instant, before the scent of the bigger man lulled him.

"There is a price, for killing an Archdemon,"

The soft words seemed to echo, Alistair had never sounded so ominous before. It wasn't something good, Jowan could almost guess.

"And whats that?"

"The Warden who lands the killing blow, dies as a result. Usually its the oldest Warden," Alistair said.

Which meant Riordan would take it. Jowan's mind quickly went to the next Warden in line, of the Wardens in Ferelden the _honor_ would next fall to Alistair. No, he couldn't allow that. Alistair was too good a man to die. It should be Jowan, but as a mage he'd hardly have a good shot at the beast from behind everyone. The Aeuducan scion was a monster with his hammer, he could kill the Archdemon. Jowan chided himself for his black thoughts, wishing death on another so the man he cared for would live. No Alistair would take the fatal stroke if Riordan fell. It was simply who he was to do things the way they aught to be done.

Except in loving a man. A maleficar.

"There is no other way then?"

There was a long pause from the man, finally Alistair said, "No, its nothing."

"What are you trying to hide, your not very good at it you know," Jowan replied, sitting up to glance sidelong at his unlikely partner.

"Morrigan mentioned something. No good can come of it."

The Templar was too tired, near the edge of sleep as it was, to resist the extra nudge Jowan gave him towards slumber. Morrigan had mentioned something. That was all Jowan needed to know. The swamp witch had something unsavory up her sleeve that disagreed with Alistair's delicate sensibilities. He believed in right and wrong, black and white, all or nothing. The world hadn't been that simple for Jowan in a long time. He did know one thing, he deserved to live. Was it greater to sin, or refuse to commit a sin to save the life of someone you loved. It wasn't the first time he asked himself that question. Perhaps in saving Alistair, he too could be absolved.


End file.
